Icarus
by DeanLittle67
Summary: AU: Jay's life hasn't turned out perfectly wrapped in a bow. What happened to the golden boy? What happens when Will finds out what really happened to his brother?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, for those of you who have read Hold On, you probably notice minimal Halstead brother interaction. That's because I just started watching PD for the first time and don't have Jay's personality down yet. So, here's an idea that popped up after having seen most of Season 1 with Jay going in as an addict trying to score. This will be multi-chapter, but bear with me please :)

He wasn't even eighteen when he left his father's house, a set of clothes in his backpack and as much money as he could find. It wasn't worth it, with both his mother and brother gone, his dad a drunk. He couldn't take just sitting there in silence, or in the moments where there was yelling and screaming and the - more often than not - punch thrown. He couldn't take it.

He didn't want to think back on those first few months as he tried to get his footing, having dropped out of school in the process. It was a lot of dealing, a lot of threats, a lot of cold nights trying to stay awake in a McDonald's lobby trying to stay warm.

How he got in this spot, he could never fully understand. He just knew he was handcuffed and thrown in the back of a police car for getting caught. Unfortunately for him, it was dealing, his high starting to wear off. Before he knew it, he sat in an interrogation room.

"So, kid, you got a name?" the gruff officer asked him, his hands still cuffed behind his back as he tried to avoid the man's gaze.

"What's it to you?" he responded, shifting in his seat as he tried to find a comfortable position.

"If you give me a name, I might be able to give you a deal?"

He knew what most of the deals were lightened sentences, but sentences nonetheless. He wouldn't survive in prison.

"I don't want a deal, man. I want out," he countered. To him, out meant out of the cuffs and back on the streets. The officer seemed to have a different out in mind.

"You want 'clean' out? Or just out of here?"

He huffed in response with a headshake. All of these cops were the same, only caring about the bottom line and not about the people across the table.

"I want out of here, to go home."

"From running your prints, I know you don't have a home to go back to considering you came up as a missing persons runaway. Your dad filed you a missing person three years ago when you were seventeen. So, do we want to try this again Jay?"

Of course his dad would do that. He didn't care about Jay when he was there, so he made it about himself. The longing father to have his son returned.

"I ain't snitching man. So, go ahead. Throw me in jail, but we both know I won't survive there either."

He had such a baby face, but the drugs had done a number on him. His eyes were rimmed with purple rings, lips permanently chapped. If you were to lift his sleeves, you'd see track marks clear as day.

"I wasn't going to send you to jail, kid," the officer assured him. "You have an 'in' somewhere, and I wouldn't want you to tell me that - at least not here. I want you on my team, a C.I."

Jay couldn't help but noticeably scoff at the idea. C.I.s ended up dead, or in jail either way. He didn't know if it was worth it to risk it. He weighed his options in his head. Maybe this guy could get him a good deal. He knew C.I.s got paid under the table. He'd heard enough gossip.

"Look, kid. You're looking at seven years in prison for a felony intent to distribute, at a minimum. You take my deal, it's a slap on the wrist and a good gig."

"Deal," Jay agreed. "Think you can score me a hit too?" He made sure to give the puppy eyes to the man, hoping it would get to him.

"Nice try. I'll have someone come in and let you out. In the meantime, here's my card," he said, pulling the small paper out of his wallet and sliding it across the table. "If you need anything, or if you want 'out' out, give me a call. The name's Voight."


	2. Chapter 2

Jay would say he'd been a good CI over the years. Voight had kept him out of trouble, gave him enough money for the intel to get off the streets and into a run down apartment on the west side. Voight had told him many times that he couldn't understand how Jay had his hands in so many pockets across the city. Jay would always come back with a humble response, usually along the lines of that he was just getting his fix.

He never thought he'd end up here though, an addict with no family, barely scraping by through dealing. He'd had an entire future ahead of him back then when it all started, could have done anything with his life. It was the way the world worked though, screwing people over.

Rarely did he ever think of his brother, but when he did, it was an anger reaction. How come Will was able to get out, make a life for himself, and Jay was in this mess? It wasn't fair to him, none of it was. He hadn't heard from his brother since he was eighteen, a quick phone call wishing him a Happy Birthday. He hadn't answered Will's calls after that, had gotten himself higher than a kite and enjoying the day while being able to push those feelings to the side.

How he ended up in a diner with Voight was a whole different story. Usually, they'd meet on a street corner near wherever Jay was dealing that day. Instead, he'd gotten a message to meet the Sergeant here. At least he was getting a free hot meal out of it.

"What do you need, Voight?" he asked, leg bouncing under the table as he picked at his cuticles.

"No, 'How are you, Sergeant?'" Voight asked as the waitress brought out their food.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but this?" he countered, motioning to the diner. "This isn't the usual, so I'm going to assume this isn't the usual conversation."

"You're smart, kid."

If Jay was being honest, he hated when Voight called him 'kid.' The man wasn't his father, had no right, but Jay never said anything about it. Partly, he was scared Voight would send him to jail if Jay went against him. However, Jay had been a CI since he was seventeen - going on eight years now.

"What do you know about the bad dope on the street?" Voight asked.

Jay had to think about that one. Mainly, because as Voight always said, he had his hands in so many pockets.

"What side of town? I've heard about a batch of H that came in from Mexico a couple weeks ago on the West, been knocking people out left and right. But, there's also rumors that Lincoln Park is supposed to be getting some new Coke here soon, stuff that even I wouldn't try. Mainly because of who's distributing," Jay answered.

"We haven't had any intel on Lincoln Park, more focused on West Side. You heard from your brother recently?"

Voight knew that was a touchy subject, but considering he was getting a hot meal, he wasn't going to deny the man an answer.

"Been eight years. Why do you wanna know?" Jay countered.

"Rumors there's a hot-shot ER doc that just came in from New York a couple months ago at Med, Will Halstead."

He couldn't help but scoff at that idea. Will, a doctor? There was no way, but he believed Voight. He wanted to see it for himself, though, he never would, considering he was planning on staying far from Med with that new information.

"The prodigal son returns," Jay murmured under his breath, getting a funny look from Voight, but no more questions. "The new shipment is coming in on Tuesday to a Warehouse in The Island off Mayfield. Can't tell you what time."

Even after all this time, it was odd telling a cop when a drug shipment would come in. Jay didn't tell Voight about every one that came in, or else he'd be out of business. But, knowing this was most likely going to be a bad batch, he didn't feel too bad about it. He had morals afterall.

"Thanks, kid," Voight said again as they ate their meals in relative silence after that.

When they finished, Voight fished around in his pocket, pulling out a small, wrapped box.

"Happy birthday," he said, handing the box over. "Call me if you need me."

With that, Voight left Jay alone, wondering if he should open it now or later. He did this every year, giving Jay something. Usually it was cash and something he might be able to pawn. One year, it was a pair of nice socks. It was rarely anything worth while.

He waited until he got home to open it. Inside was the normal intel cash, a little extra, and a set of decorative dog-tags with Jay's name on them. He'd told Voight that at one point he'd thought about going into the army, but then he fell into the clutches of addiction and knew it wouldn't work out.

Jay wasn't sure what to do, so he fell into the usual routine on his birthday. He went out, scored a decent amount, and got high. He thought nothing of finding a park bench to sit on, tying the tourniquet around his arm and shooting up. He didn't think much of the high that followed, or the ground rushing towards his face afterwards.


	3. Chapter 3

When Will first thought of moving back to Chicago, he was hesitant. Growing up, he and Jay had been close. They did so much together. The fact that he hadn't heard from his brother in eight years. If it wasn't for the fact that he combed through obituaries once a month, he would have thought his brother was dead.

However, when the opportunity arose to be an ER attending at Chicago's best hospital, he couldn't turn it down. It was once in a lifetime. A part of him hoped he'd see his brother, even in passing, just to be assured that he was okay. The other part was angry at Jay. He tried reaching out those first couple of years until Jay changed his phone number, obviously not wanting to hear from his big brother. It was a stab in the heart if Will was being honest. It was truly a betrayal.

Will had been in Chicago for three weeks, quickly making a name for himself at the hospital. It was a good start, saving lives. It's what he loved to do.

There were some days where he thought he'd seen his brother on the streets, trying to do a double take, but whoever it was was already gone by the time he turned around. This, luckily, had not been one of those days, coming far and few between now that he'd been back for a few months.

"Morning, Maggie!" Will called out as he walked into the ED, heading to the lounge to drop off his bag and coat.

"Incoming into Baghdad! Will, you're up," Maggie told him as soon as he stepped back into the ED.

Of course it was going to be one of those days. He waited next to the ambulance bay doors, waiting for the incoming. When they did roll in, he was focused on the paramedic's report, not looking at the patient yet.

"Twenty-eight year old male found unresponsive in a park. Noticeable track marks, used syringe and needle next to him, possible heroin overdose. Administered narcan nasally with no change. Horrible AC veins, managed to get an eighteen EJ. Bradycardic, hypotensive," Brett told him.

"Do we have a name?" he asked, motioning for an additional nurse.

"He was wearing dog-tags, but they didn't look like Army issue, but more decorative. Jay, no last name."

Will's blood ran cold, literally stopping in his tracks as they moved Jay over to the hospital bed. He looked at the man on the bed, stumbling back until his back hit the glass. His breaths came in sharp, short intakes. It was Jay, his Jay, not some random guy on the street who happened to have the same name as his brother.

"Will, what do you want us to do?" April asked, before glancing out the glass and motioning for someone to help them because Will didn't know how to respond.

It had been eight years since he'd talked to Jay, nine since he'd seen him. He still looked the same, for the most part. His eyes were a bit more sunken, cheekbones more prominent. He didn't want to imagine his ribs being sunken in. He didn't want to imagine the track marks most likely lining his arms. How did this happen?

"Will," Connor said, trying to get his attention as Ethan took over. "Look at me, Will, breathe."

He looked at the other man, holding onto his biceps to keep himself up. They breathed together, Will following Connor's breathing pattern. He let himself be led out of the room, to the lounge with some of the others looking as they went by.

"What happened in there, Will?" Connor then asked as they took a seat next to each other.

He looked at Connor with fear in his eyes as he shakily spoke a sentence he never thought he'd say. "That's my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

It wasn't something he'd broadcasted out to his friends. Considering he hadn't talked to Jay in so long, he didn't know if it was something he should have told him. He thought Jay had made a life for himself, was happy. He never thought Jay would be a heroin addict in the ER for an overdose.

"I haven't heard from him since he was eighteen. I-I tried, but he didn't… God." He shook his head. "I didn't think this is how he ended up. How-How did I not know?" he continued.

"You tried, that's what matters. It was Jay who cut you off. This isn't your fault," Connor tried assuring him, but Will wasn't having it.

Will blamed himself. If he'd stuck around, if he'd been there for Jay, maybe he would have turned out better. Jay had been talking about joining the army before Will left, had been talking about having a future. This wasn't a future, not at all.

"He's my baby brother, and I've lost him! I'm losing him all over again Connor!" he yelled, getting up and pacing the room. Thank God the door was closed, but he was sure the others could still hear him. "He was supposed to have a future! I fucked up! I left him!"

"Calm down, Will," Connor tried saying, getting cut off with the sound of Will's closed fist meeting with the lockers.

Will winced right afterwards, pulling his hand close and cradling it against his chest. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

"It's happening, Will. And how you handle it is what defines you as a brother," Connor told him, Will not knowing he was saying it out loud.

Will didn't know how to handle it, so he sat back down, letting Connor assess his hand, splinting it lightly. And he just waited, hoping and praying for the best.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Two updates in one night?! Gotta love insomnia. I'm aware of some continuity errors in regards to the years of everything. I'm not going to go back and fix it, mainly because my brain already hurts from figuring out the time gaps. Thank you all for the reads, views, and reviews. Much appreciated. Enjoy!

"Ethan, how is he?" Will asked as soon as the other doctor walked through the door, looking haggard.

Connor had done a good job trying to keep Will's mind occupied while his brother's fate hung in the balance between life and death, in Ethan's hands. They'd gone over cases, talked about the latest Hawks game, debated between Cubs and Sox and which was the better team. But as soon as Ethan walked in, a switch flipped in Will's brain, the one with Jay's name written all over it.

"It was touch and go for a minute there," Ethan said as he took a seat at the table. "He did overdose on heroin, Will. He's intubated and heading up to the ICU. We should know in the next couple of days if there's any lasting effects. We went ahead and started him on Methadone to help with withdrawls seeing as we don't know how long he's been addicted. We also found a card for a Sergeant Hank Voight in his wallet, looks pretty worn. I'll let you go through his phone, not my place."

Will still couldn't believe it. His baby brother was now in an ICU bed, on a ventilator, because of heroin? It didn't seem like something Jay would have done, but Will couldn't admit that the man laying in that bed was not the same Jay he remembered. He was a completely different man, they both were.

"I'll walk up there with you, man," Connor assured him, helping him stand up.

Will would admit that he was still in shock as they walked, barely able to tell if he was walking or floating. Nine years since he'd seen his brother, and this was how they were reuniting? What if Jay didn't want to see him? Will wasn't sure what he'd do in that situation. Before he knew it, Connor sat him down in the chair next to Jay's bed.

Will instinctively took Jay's hand in his, not hearing Connor leave. His skin was cold, pale. Now that he was in a gown, Will could see the scars of track marks along both of his arms. His nail beds were scabbed over. He had a new scar above his left eyebrow, stubble across his chin. Purple rings circled his eyes, sunken in, lips chapped. Will could only hope that he still had that sparkle in those baby blues.

"What the Hell happened, Jay?" Will muttered softly, hoping to get an answer from his brother when he woke up.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, staring at Jay, when a piercing ringing startled him. Grabbing the bag with Jay's clothes, he rummaged around, finding the cell phone that was the source of the sound, answering it without looking.

"Hello?" he asked, not sure if he should be answering or not.

"Hey, kid. I need us to meet up again, as soon as possible," the voice on the other end said, voice rough and deep.

"Who's calling?" Will followed, not sure what Jay had gotten himself into.

"This is Sergeant Hank Voight with the CPD. Who's this? Where's Jay?"

Hank Voight. He vaguely remembered Ethan mentioning a business card, grabbing Jay's wallet and pulling it out. It looked legit, definitely worn out like Ethan had said.

"This is Doctor Will Halstead, Jay's brother. He's at Med," Will told the Sergeant, knowing he shouldn't keep that information private.

"I'm on my way." With that, the line disconnected.

Will didn't understand why a Sergeant would be calling his addict brother. Maybe he'd gotten into some trouble, or was a witness. But the business card said Intelligence, so it probably wasn't drug related. At least, he didn't think it would be. He didn't understand the law enforcement side of everything, except for what he had to know for his job. Even then, it was very limited, sticking to only the necessities.

Barely twenty minutes later, a stranger walked into the room. He had grey hair, and held himself like a cop would.

"Sergeant Voight?" Will asked, looking at the man, receiving a nod in response. It looked like the man cared about his brother.

"What happened?" His voice was more gruff in person than on the phone.

"Overdose. Now, tell me what I've missed with my brother over the past eight years." He wasn't taking no for an answer, needing answers sooner than Jay would be waking up. Voight sat across from him, glancing between the two brothers.

"I busted your brother when he was twenty for intent to distribute when I was a detective. Decided to cut him a deal, knowing he wouldn't survive in prison. He became a C.I. for me, giving me information in return for cash. By the time I met him, he'd been through the wringer a few times over. I gave him my card," he said, motioning to the card sitting on the bedside table, "if he ever wanted to get out and clean. Been eight years, and he still hasn't used it, but who am I to judge? I just met with him this morning, he was fine. Then, I called him, needing to see if I could get some more information based on a conversation earlier today, and you answered."

"How did he-?" Will didn't know how to ask, or if Voight would even have the answers.

"I don't know how he got on the streets, Doc. That's for him to tell you. All I know is that your dad filed a missing person's report when he was seventeen. I don't know what he did in those three years."

Will had even more questions now that he had a couple of answers. Even then, it would be at least a day before anything else would get answered. Voight sat there with him in silence for a few more minutes before leaving, probably to go do his job. What else would he get out of an unconscious man? Definitely not answers, in the same boat as Will.

Will had gotten the call five years ago that their dad had died, not caring. He and their old man had never seen eye to eye, the fact that Will was pursuing college at the time was enough to drive a wedge between the two. It was understandable that he wouldn't know their dad had filed a missing person's report. Now, the question was, what made Jay run away in the first place?


End file.
